Whit lifted his arm and pulled the trigger. The shot thundered harmlessly into the night sky. “Thank goodness for watertight containers.”
The corners of my mother’s lips turned downward. “You’re certainly prepared.”
“Endearing, isn’t it?” I said.
“Is it?” she muttered, gathering her legs underneath her.
My mother was already planning her escape. She was already looking ahead at how to leave me, scheming and plotting for a move that would see her reunited with her treasures. “Where is Cleopatra?” I asked suddenly. “Where have you hidden the artifacts?”
My mother let out a choked cry as she stood. Her knees wobbled, but she somehow remained on her feet, wiping her eyes, and dripping water. “Is that all you care about?”
I slanted a look up at her, anger licking at my edges. “Abdullah andyour brotherare in prison.” I stood also, my exhaustion swept away by my mounting frustration. “They are charged with a crime you committed.”
“I’m afraid you will have to come with us,” Whit said in that same light tone. He pointed the gun at her.
“You wouldn’t shoot me, Whit,” she said softly. “Not after I saved her life.”
“Why don’t you ask your daughter what I’d do?” he asked. “She knows me better than anyone.”
“He won’t aim to kill,” I said promptly. “But he’ll shoot you somewhere that will make escape near impossible without assistance. Perhaps in the leg so you can’t run far.”
Whit grinned, but his eyes were cold. If he were looking at me that way, I would have shivered. “See?”
Mamá twisted her mouth. “Perhaps a visit with a doctor would be wise.”
Whit stuck close to her, watching her carefully as we made our way to theedge of the city. We walked a few blocks until he directed us down a street where a carriage and driver waited. I turned to look at him in amazement.
“How—”
“I followed Mr. Sterling’s men to the entrance of the underground canals in this carriage. I paid the driver to wait—all night if necessary.”
We climbed into our transport, Whit and I sitting side by side and facing my mother. He rested the gun on his left knee, palm curved around the handle. Keeping his eyes on her, he reached for my hand with his free one and interlaced our fingers.
I glanced at him. “I really thought you’d be irritated with me.”
“Oh,” he said, anger sparking in his blue eyes. “I’m bloody furious, darling.” But then he lifted our clasped hands and pressed a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist. “I’malsoglad you’re alive. I lost years of my life watching you leave with Mr. Sterling”—he shook his head—“with Cayo.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Years of my life,” he repeated. “Gone.” Then he bent and kissed me, hard and quick. “Don’t ever pull that shit with me again, Olivera,” he whispered against my mouth. He’d said something similar to me months ago when we first met.
I gave him a small smile. Perhaps in another few months he’d finally realize that was just how I operated.
Mamá stared at the pair of us holding hands, her lips flattened. Before Egypt, her expression alone would have made me despair. Hearing her actual disapproval would have cost me several nights’ sleep. But now I stared back at her steadily. I wouldn’t feel bad for not meeting her impossible standards whenshecouldn’t live up to them, either. Subconsciously, she must have known that. My father had demanded perfection from her, and she had crafted the perfect wife. She had created a cage all on her own, and my father was ruthless enough to use the key.
The carriage pulled up to the hotel. I went to open the door, but Whit’s voice stopped me.
“Wait a moment, Inez.” He handed me the gun, and I made a little noise of surprise at the back of my throat. “I’ll be right back.”
“You’re leaving? Right now?” I asked.
Mamá narrowed her eyes at Whit. “He’s planned something.”
Oh, of course. I relaxed my shoulders and leaned against the cushion. Whit opened the door, climbed out, and then looked at me over his shoulder and winked. He turned his attention to my mother and in a hard voice said, “If you harm her in any way, I promise you will not like the consequences.”
Mamá stiffened.
Whit closed the door, ran around the carriage, and disappeared into the hotel. Mamá peered out the window. She was like a cornered hare, skittish and nervous, eyes flicking left to right, looking for her chance to run. Then she looked at the gun in my hand and scoffed.
